From the Annals of Wasted Youth Comes...

Welcome to Weekend Update with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, no wait, it's just me. Weekend Update with me. Yeah.

So Friday night, Adele, Laura and I caught The Walkmen show at Webster Hall. Now, it's important to note that I think Laura has been waiting for this particular show her entire life. I say this because her adoration of The Walkmen is truly innate. I mean, it's as if she's been feeling this passion forever and finally found lyrics, melodies, a voice and, most important, a name--Hamilton--to embody this.

(If you aren't yet familiar with The Walkmen, you should be. Their first album--which includes "We've Been Had" a great song which was featured in a Saturn commerical and likely brought the band boatloads of licensing cash--is available for download on eMusic: click here. Their second outing, "Bows and Arrows" is equally good and brings us tasty tracks such as "The Rat" and "Little House of Savages.")

So, Hamilton has the most raw, energized yet unassuming stage presence I've witnessed to date. He's clearly emotionally and physically invested in these songs. The lyrics are painfully revealing, and when he sings, he's so entirely focused on the expression of sublimated rage that it's almost like he's unconscious. And he sort of pulls you into the feeling as much as the music, but he isn't arrogant about it. Plus, he's all dressed up like a vagrant preppy, which is just totally to die for.

He did keep staring off into the distance between songs and we all wondered who he was looking for, and secretly hoping it was us. (Duh.) Laura kept saying that she couldn't imagine being one of the girls he wrote a song about, and, as we left Webster Hall (actually not such a bad place to see a show), we all voiced our desire to one day be said a girl as we went out for drinks. A few too many vodka tonics and a Rosario's slice later, we dispersed in preparation for the great Halloween festivities.

After spending most of Saturday looking for last minute costume accessories (can someone tell me why no one makes yellow tape?) I headed over to my friend Liz's sister's birthday party for champagne and cake. Then I joined Mustafa, Britney, Cleopatra and Rhythmic Gymnast at Adele's place for costume changes and vodka drinks.

Then it was on to Happy Endings for Rose's AsFour-themed event, where we saw Jeffrey as a chess board, Lily as our favorite lip-syncher Ashlee, Yi as Kimora Lee and Alexa as a skeleton. The most popular costume by far at this event was Chanel-kingpin Karl Lagerfeld, as Jeffrey apparently saw, like, five of them. Creepy.

Next, Cleo, Mustafa and I headed over to the West Village for an insane house party featuring kegs, vodka bevs and jello shots. Apparently, it was also set up for Adele's very own episode of "This Is Your Life" as she encountered elementary, middle, sunday and high school friends, most of whom were drunk. That's even weirder than five Karl Lagerfelds.

Soon the troops filed in from the BK and some of us went home while the more adventurous, dare I say reckless? high-tailed it down to the Tribeca Grand for the DFA Halloween party. Ok, so we missed LCD Soundsystem and I realize it was *technically* 4 AM (although with DST ending it was actually 3), but there was no one there. I mean, I thought hipsters knew how to tough it out. Alas, we had a drink, danced to the Daft Punk remix of "Take Me Out" (I have no idea how I remember that), jumped in a cab and went home.

Funny thing about getting home at 3:45 in the morning. On occasion, you have some difficulty opening the front door to your apartment. Sometimes, you even go around back and try desperately to climb the fire escape and sneak in your kitchen window, without success. Then, you call your friend, who, by the way, has been sleeping for an hour, and, despite her own intoxication manages to talk you through properly inserting the key and pushing on the door, finally achieving insurmountable (read: vodka-soaked) odds to crawl into your very comfortable, forgiving bed.

This is all hypothetical, of course. It's not like it ever actually happened. (Um, yeah. Thanks, Adele)

Sunday I watched nine (yes nine) full episodes of the West Wing. I also ordered a pizza.